


Know When to Fold 'Em

by TeamGwenee



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Model AU, Modern AU, Strip Poker, stuck in an elevator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 22:23:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13420851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamGwenee/pseuds/TeamGwenee
Summary: Jaime and Brienne pass the time in the only way possible. For DaneyIN.





	Know When to Fold 'Em

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DanyelN](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanyelN/gifts).



In a few short minutes, Jaime Lannister was going to find himself hating Brienne's silver sparkly stilettos as much as Brienne did, considering that at this rate they were going to end up stuck in the back of his skull.

“If you don't stop whistling...” she growled ominously, causing Jaime to turn to her with wide eyed innocence.

“I'm _bored_ ,” he whined, “We're going to be stuck in here half an hour, might as well find something to do,”

Brienne slumped against the wall of the elevator and yanked off her shoes.

“How does having your tongue ripped form your mouth sound?” she suggested.

“You know,” Jaime pondered, “Not very fun,”

“Well shut up then,” Brienne snapped.

Jaime watched Brienne silently, noting the goosebumps and the pale hairs prickling up on her bare arms. She was trembling. He shrugged out of his jacket and slipped it round her shoulders. Brienne tensed beneath his hands as they lingered tentatively for a second.

“Just warming you up,” he explained, “That dress doesn't provide much covering,”

“And whose fault is that?” Brienne huffed, tugging up the neckline of her sheer silver dress.

“Yours,” Jaime pointed out, “You're the one who foolishly challenged me to poker, you're the one who lost, hence you're the one who has to pay the forfeit,”

“Why couldn't you make me do something reasonable though? Like swallowing frog spawn or ripping out my toenails,” Brienne pleaded.

“I suppose I wasn't feeling particularly merciful,” Jaime shrugged, sliding down the wall to sit beside Brienne. In truth, Jaime had been on tenterhooks waiting for an opportunity to spring the modelling job on Brienne. He had been preparing himself to plead, beg and cajole Brienne into accepting the job.

The photo shoot had been due to begin in two weeks before Jaime finally realised why none of the proposed models had seemed quite right. Without even realising it, Jaime had subconsciously used Brienne as his muse. The minute Jaime's company had been commissioned to do a photo shoot in the ruins of Harrenhal, Brienne had been lurking in the back of his mind.

It was for her that Jaime had designed the ethereally beautiful silver dress, made specifically for her long legs and broad figure. And only Brienne was fit to debut it.

Completely slaughtering her at poker had been the god send he needed to strong arm her into doing the shoot. To Brienne's credit, she had taken the job on like a trooper. But ten hours alternating between the make up chair and freezing cold of the Godswood of Harrenhal; having cameras and powder brushes thrust in her face, left Brienne desperate to get back to her hotel room.

“I just want to get this damn dress off,” she sighed.

“I'm not stopping you,” he smirked, “I can keep you warm if you need any help,”

He chuckled at Brienne's glower.

“Don't look at me like that,” he chided, wrapping an arm round her shoulders and rubbing her arm, “It's your own fault. I told you I can't be beat at poker,”

“I was having an off day, that's all,” Brienne said defensively.

“Want a rematch?” Jaime offered.

“If you think you can stand the humiliation?” Brienne shot back.

Jaime reached into the pocket of jacket and pulled out a travel poker box.

“Seriously?” Brienne quirked an eyebrow, “You carry that around?”

“Gotta keep my skills sharp,” Jaime explained, opening the box and shuffling the cards, “You nervous?”  
Brienne gulped slightly but shook her head. “No,” she insisted.

“Well in that case, how about we make it interesting?” Jaime suggested.

“How so?”

“Let's make it strip poker,”

Brienne reared back, furiously shaking her head. “Oh gods no!”

Jaime nodded in a conciliatory manner, putting the cards back into the box. “I understand,” he said sympathetically, “I can see why you're scared of losing again,”

It was exactly the push Brienne needed. Within ten seconds she had agreed to his game and swore before the old gods, new golds, drowned god and fire god that she was going to defeat Jaime Lannister if it was the last thing she did.

Within ten minutes she was stripped of her jacket, stockings, dress and bra and was struggling with the decision to either concede to a humiliating defeat, or risk losing her knickers.

“Cold Brienne?” Jaime sniggered.

“No,” Brienne muttered, hunching over and crossing her arms tightly.

“Come one,” he said coaxingly, “The sooner you admit defeat, the sooner you can put your clothes back on,”

Brienne just shot him a soul burning glare, before turning her attention back to her cards.

Jaime stretched out his arms and smiled in satisfaction, down only a tie and his left shoe. “Don't make that face, you said you wanted out of the dress,”

“I did,” Brienne huffed, “But preferably to get into some other clothes afterwards. And there's no way I can put that dress on again. Do you know how hard it is to get into?”

“The swearing and cursing gave me a hint,” Jaime admitted, “So do you fold?”

Brienne sighed and threw down her cards. “I fold,”

Jaime watched Briene tug on her bra and his jacket.

“Now, what shall we make your forfeit?” he pondered, tapping his chin.

Brienne scowled, looking adorably ruffled with her make up smeared and hair astray.

“Just be out with it!” she ordered.

Jaime spread his legs and opened his arms. “Come here,” he told her.

A delightful blush bloomed in her cheeks and spread all the way to her shoulders. “W-what?” she stuttered.

“You're cold, you're half naked and quite frankly, you look like you need a hug. Come here,”

Making a show of appearing more reluctant that she truly was, Brienne settled into the gap between Jaime's legs. His arms were warm and Brienne could feel his toned muscles beneath the thin cotton of his shirt. She cursed her body's treacherous pleasure in Jaime's embrace, even as he began fidgeting and squirming beneath her.

“Just adjusting to your weight,” he explained in a strangled voice, causing Brienne's forehead to furrow. She had only began to wonder why Jaime's knee was wedged in her thigh, when the elevator jolted to life. They stumbled to their feet, clutching each other as the doors slid open.

There stood Jaime's assistant, Bronn. A shit eating grin broke out across his face as he ran his eyes over the pair. He took in Brienne's lack of clothing and the bulge rapidly growing in Jaime's trouser, and whooped.

“Fucking finally,” he cheered, “I was hoping you'd make the most of your time in there,”

Brienne burned red as a lobster and frantically shook her head.

“It's not what it looks like!” she said desperately.

Bronn's shoulders slumped. “Isn't it?” he asked, turning to Jaime for confirmation, “Well that's dissapointing,” He stepped forward and blocked their exit from the elevator. Brienne and Jaime watched as the elevator doors shut once more, eyes widening in horror.

Bronn stepped back from the elevator and contacted the the hotel maintenance staff.

“No, they haven't fucked yet,” Bronn explained into his earpiece, “Better give them another thirty minutes,”

 


End file.
